Ripples (Oz/Gunn, PG)
Jan. 21st, 2007 01:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
electricalgwenWritten for the Oz round at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
maleslashminis for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alexao, who requested "Oz/Gunn, set during the part in Angel Season 2 when Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn had their own Angel-less Investigations; Caritas; a handshake; PG-13 max rating." I'm sorry that Caritas makes only an off-stage appearance; the story just didn't want to be set there! Perhaps I'll have to try and write a sequel. ;)
Clocks in at 1267 words, rated PG. Many thanks tomadame_meretrix and cordelianne for beta work. Any remaining mistakes are of course mine, and please feel free to point them out! These are not characters I am used to writing; concrit is always welcomed by email.
Ripples
When Gunn got back, someone was parked in his spot.
He pulled up behind the beat-up old VW and slammed the door. Whoever was driving that heap of shit wasn’t going to be a paying client.
A guy was sitting in one of the reserved-for-valued-customers armchairs. A small guy with spiky blue hair. He dressed like his van.
Cordelia, however, was neither ignoring him nor attempting to shoo him out. She was actually talking to him. Or rather, talking at him. The guy seemed content just to give the occasional thoughtful nod.
“…so after that, Angel went totally batshit crazy. He locked Darla and Drusilla up and let them eat a whole bunch of people – who, okay, were evil lawyers from Hell’s personal firm, but still – and when we questioned whether that was an entirely appropriate course of action, he fired us!” She picked at a cuticle, looking indignant. “But we – well, we kinda didn’t have anything else going on – although,” she added hastily and importantly, “I’ve been called back to an audition for a pantyhose commercial.”
The guy raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. Cordelia blushed as if he’d paid her effusive compliments.
“I still have the visions, Wes still has the books, and Gunn,” she turned and waved her arm at him, “Gunn’s got the muscle. And the style.” She grinned.
The guy turned towards Gunn. Their eyes met.
It was like looking into a still pool at the height of summer, on a windless day. Blue and green reflected on the surface, and below it, cool depths that might go on forever. You could drop a rock in with barely a ripple, and never hear it land.
“Gunn, this is Oz. Oz, Gunn.”
Gunn shook his head slightly, surfacing. “Let me guess. Sunnydale.”
Oz held out a hand. “Survived it. Move around, now.”
He was strong, for a little guy, but it wasn’t that overcompensating kind of grip that tries to prove itself by crushing your hand. It was steady and reassuring. A no-bullshit handshake.
“Anyway, now we’re Angel Investigations, only without the Angel. Angel-free!” She smiled perkily. “And we’re getting a few decent cases.”
Gunn shoved his hands in his back pockets. “So, Oz. What brings you by?”
If Oz heard the slight challenge in his voice, he didn’t react.
“I drove through here last year to see Angel. Before you joined the crew, I guess.” His gaze flickered to Cordelia. “I brought him something Buffy sent. Thought I’d stop in and see how things were going.”
“He smashed it.”
Oz raised both eyebrows.
“He said he didn’t want to forget what he was fighting for.” She sniffed acerbically. “Like being able to go out in daylight would make him forget? No, that takes a blonde bimbo. The minute Darla showed up, he couldn’t think straight.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Sometimes it takes a while to find your path,” Oz offered finally.
Cordelia muttered something under her breath. The men shared a look and didn’t inquire further.
“You got plans for tonight, man?” Gunn rocked on his heels. “There’s this demon karaoke bar, run by a friend of ours – we’re supposed to be meeting Wes there. Drink, gather info, maybe even sing. Want to come along?”
“Oh, you should totally come!” Cordelia brightened up. “Have you heard of Caritas? This demon who runs it has the wildest fashion sense. Sure, he’s a demon but he’s a great host. He might even have the kind of music you like.”
She turned to Gunn. “Oz was in a band, used to play at the local club all the time.”
“No shit?” Gunn said. “What kind of stuff?”
“Weird,” said Cordelia firmly. “Can’t you tell by the hair?”
Oz simply shrugged, a tiny smile gracing his lips. Clearly, he was used to her.
“Better get moving,” Gunn said. “Wes’ll think we stood him up. Sun’s goin’ down, must be nearly 8 already.”
Cordelia’s expression suddenly froze. Her smile looked forced as she walked over to her desk. “Just let me check my calendar. In case you got the date wrong.”
Gunn eyed her oddly. “Cordy, I saw him at lunch. He said he’d meet us there.”
“I just want to check the calendar, okay?”
“Full moon tonight,” Oz said mildly. Cordelia startled and tripped on the telephone cord, clutching the edge of the desk. She righted herself, plastic smile still in place.
“That’s nice, it’ll still be light after the sun goes down. As it will any minute now.” She started to edge around the desk. “Actually, Oz, you’re probably tired after all that driving. Don’t you think you’d rather stay in tonight?”
“I’m good.” He looked amused.
Her smile was getting thinner. “Are you sure? Caritas can get a little… hairy.” The last word was practically hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m missing something here,” Gunn said bluntly. “Anyone care to fill me in?”
“I’m a werewolf.”
Gunn blinked. “Okay then.”
Cordelia crossed her arms. “And he usually needs to be locked up three nights a month. What’s with the wandering around free tonight? Are you planning to devour the nightclub patrons? Because that would be evil anytime, but devouring us would be particularly bad in my book.”
“Got the wolf under control now.” Oz raised a hand, pulled at the loose neck of his T-shirt. Several charms hung from a curiously-braided rope, stark contrast to milk-pale skin over lean, spare muscles. Gunn cleared his throat.
“What do you mean, under control?” Cordelia didn’t look convinced.
“Doesn’t matter that it’s full moon tonight.” Oz rubbed his nose. “I feel it, but I can stop the change.”
She tapped her foot. “Uh-huh. So if you’re all sorted out, how come you’re not back in Sunnydale with Little Miss Geekiness?”
For the first time, Gunn saw a tiny ripple in the pool of calm.
“She’s moved on.”
Cordelia gave him her best “you are kidding me” expression. “Willow’s got a new guy? Wait, let me guess – did Xander finally give in?”
“Girl,” said Oz quietly. “Witch.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Willow’s gay now?!” She frowned speculatively. “They’re both witches? What, did they meet dancing naked in the moonlight?”
“Didn’t ask,” Oz said. Hint of a growl. Cordelia blinked and moved on. “So, Xander? What’s the scoop on him?”
Quirk of lips. “Actually, he’s sharing an apartment with Spike.”
Gunn hadn’t seen Cordelia speechless for quite some time. Not that it lasted.
“What?”
She clearly wanted to say something more, but the words had all tried to rush through her mouth at once and got stuck. She was gaping.
“Spike was experimented on last year by the military. Can’t bite anymore. He can kill non-humans, though. And he started rooming with Xander.” Oz’s expression was neutral. “They seem to be getting along well.”
Cordelia finally closed her mouth. Then promptly opened it again. “I should have known! Okay, so Spike, that is wacky beyond belief. But Xander – that boy is so gay.” She frowned. “Man, is it something in the Sunnydale water? Is Buffy going to be gay next? I don’t feel gay. What about you, Oz? Are you gay now?”
“I wouldn’t describe myself as gay,” Oz said thoughtfully.
And if Gunn felt Oz’s gaze on him, assessing and appreciative, he didn’t say anything. He could do cool as well as the next guy. Even if it meant forgoing the fun of freaking Cordy out completely. He just turned and sauntered towards the door.
“So, we good to go, then?”
He looked forward to watching this guy sing.
maleslashminis for alexao, who requested "Oz/Gunn, set during the part in Angel Season 2 when Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn had their own Angel-less Investigations; Caritas; a handshake; PG-13 max rating." I'm sorry that Caritas makes only an off-stage appearance; the story just didn't want to be set there! Perhaps I'll have to try and write a sequel. ;)Clocks in at 1267 words, rated PG. Many thanks to
madame_meretrix and cordelianne for beta work. Any remaining mistakes are of course mine, and please feel free to point them out! These are not characters I am used to writing; concrit is always welcomed by email.Ripples
When Gunn got back, someone was parked in his spot.
He pulled up behind the beat-up old VW and slammed the door. Whoever was driving that heap of shit wasn’t going to be a paying client.
A guy was sitting in one of the reserved-for-valued-customers armchairs. A small guy with spiky blue hair. He dressed like his van.
Cordelia, however, was neither ignoring him nor attempting to shoo him out. She was actually talking to him. Or rather, talking at him. The guy seemed content just to give the occasional thoughtful nod.
“…so after that, Angel went totally batshit crazy. He locked Darla and Drusilla up and let them eat a whole bunch of people – who, okay, were evil lawyers from Hell’s personal firm, but still – and when we questioned whether that was an entirely appropriate course of action, he fired us!” She picked at a cuticle, looking indignant. “But we – well, we kinda didn’t have anything else going on – although,” she added hastily and importantly, “I’ve been called back to an audition for a pantyhose commercial.”
The guy raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. Cordelia blushed as if he’d paid her effusive compliments.
“I still have the visions, Wes still has the books, and Gunn,” she turned and waved her arm at him, “Gunn’s got the muscle. And the style.” She grinned.
The guy turned towards Gunn. Their eyes met.
It was like looking into a still pool at the height of summer, on a windless day. Blue and green reflected on the surface, and below it, cool depths that might go on forever. You could drop a rock in with barely a ripple, and never hear it land.
“Gunn, this is Oz. Oz, Gunn.”
Gunn shook his head slightly, surfacing. “Let me guess. Sunnydale.”
Oz held out a hand. “Survived it. Move around, now.”
He was strong, for a little guy, but it wasn’t that overcompensating kind of grip that tries to prove itself by crushing your hand. It was steady and reassuring. A no-bullshit handshake.
“Anyway, now we’re Angel Investigations, only without the Angel. Angel-free!” She smiled perkily. “And we’re getting a few decent cases.”
Gunn shoved his hands in his back pockets. “So, Oz. What brings you by?”
If Oz heard the slight challenge in his voice, he didn’t react.
“I drove through here last year to see Angel. Before you joined the crew, I guess.” His gaze flickered to Cordelia. “I brought him something Buffy sent. Thought I’d stop in and see how things were going.”
“He smashed it.”
Oz raised both eyebrows.
“He said he didn’t want to forget what he was fighting for.” She sniffed acerbically. “Like being able to go out in daylight would make him forget? No, that takes a blonde bimbo. The minute Darla showed up, he couldn’t think straight.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Sometimes it takes a while to find your path,” Oz offered finally.
Cordelia muttered something under her breath. The men shared a look and didn’t inquire further.
“You got plans for tonight, man?” Gunn rocked on his heels. “There’s this demon karaoke bar, run by a friend of ours – we’re supposed to be meeting Wes there. Drink, gather info, maybe even sing. Want to come along?”
“Oh, you should totally come!” Cordelia brightened up. “Have you heard of Caritas? This demon who runs it has the wildest fashion sense. Sure, he’s a demon but he’s a great host. He might even have the kind of music you like.”
She turned to Gunn. “Oz was in a band, used to play at the local club all the time.”
“No shit?” Gunn said. “What kind of stuff?”
“Weird,” said Cordelia firmly. “Can’t you tell by the hair?”
Oz simply shrugged, a tiny smile gracing his lips. Clearly, he was used to her.
“Better get moving,” Gunn said. “Wes’ll think we stood him up. Sun’s goin’ down, must be nearly 8 already.”
Cordelia’s expression suddenly froze. Her smile looked forced as she walked over to her desk. “Just let me check my calendar. In case you got the date wrong.”
Gunn eyed her oddly. “Cordy, I saw him at lunch. He said he’d meet us there.”
“I just want to check the calendar, okay?”
“Full moon tonight,” Oz said mildly. Cordelia startled and tripped on the telephone cord, clutching the edge of the desk. She righted herself, plastic smile still in place.
“That’s nice, it’ll still be light after the sun goes down. As it will any minute now.” She started to edge around the desk. “Actually, Oz, you’re probably tired after all that driving. Don’t you think you’d rather stay in tonight?”
“I’m good.” He looked amused.
Her smile was getting thinner. “Are you sure? Caritas can get a little… hairy.” The last word was practically hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m missing something here,” Gunn said bluntly. “Anyone care to fill me in?”
“I’m a werewolf.”
Gunn blinked. “Okay then.”
Cordelia crossed her arms. “And he usually needs to be locked up three nights a month. What’s with the wandering around free tonight? Are you planning to devour the nightclub patrons? Because that would be evil anytime, but devouring us would be particularly bad in my book.”
“Got the wolf under control now.” Oz raised a hand, pulled at the loose neck of his T-shirt. Several charms hung from a curiously-braided rope, stark contrast to milk-pale skin over lean, spare muscles. Gunn cleared his throat.
“What do you mean, under control?” Cordelia didn’t look convinced.
“Doesn’t matter that it’s full moon tonight.” Oz rubbed his nose. “I feel it, but I can stop the change.”
She tapped her foot. “Uh-huh. So if you’re all sorted out, how come you’re not back in Sunnydale with Little Miss Geekiness?”
For the first time, Gunn saw a tiny ripple in the pool of calm.
“She’s moved on.”
Cordelia gave him her best “you are kidding me” expression. “Willow’s got a new guy? Wait, let me guess – did Xander finally give in?”
“Girl,” said Oz quietly. “Witch.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Willow’s gay now?!” She frowned speculatively. “They’re both witches? What, did they meet dancing naked in the moonlight?”
“Didn’t ask,” Oz said. Hint of a growl. Cordelia blinked and moved on. “So, Xander? What’s the scoop on him?”
Quirk of lips. “Actually, he’s sharing an apartment with Spike.”
Gunn hadn’t seen Cordelia speechless for quite some time. Not that it lasted.
“What?”
She clearly wanted to say something more, but the words had all tried to rush through her mouth at once and got stuck. She was gaping.
“Spike was experimented on last year by the military. Can’t bite anymore. He can kill non-humans, though. And he started rooming with Xander.” Oz’s expression was neutral. “They seem to be getting along well.”
Cordelia finally closed her mouth. Then promptly opened it again. “I should have known! Okay, so Spike, that is wacky beyond belief. But Xander – that boy is so gay.” She frowned. “Man, is it something in the Sunnydale water? Is Buffy going to be gay next? I don’t feel gay. What about you, Oz? Are you gay now?”
“I wouldn’t describe myself as gay,” Oz said thoughtfully.
And if Gunn felt Oz’s gaze on him, assessing and appreciative, he didn’t say anything. He could do cool as well as the next guy. Even if it meant forgoing the fun of freaking Cordy out completely. He just turned and sauntered towards the door.
“So, we good to go, then?”
He looked forward to watching this guy sing.
